My all-time greatest achievement in gaming. I once went 25-0-0-0-0-0-0-0 in Halo 2 FFA.

The map was Midship. I ran into the middle and grabbed the shotgun and somehow managed to fend off the other 7 players who all rushed the middle as well. Everyone was so focused on killing me and getting the shotgun that nobody engaged anyone else. When I got a kill I was able to restock grenades and keep the chain going - sticking and shooting people left and right as I spun around in the middle of the map.

Back when I was in college I was waiting in the lobby of the student union for some classmates to arrive to work on a group project. I had my laptop out and I was reading reddit (of course). Some guy in a suit asked if he could check his email. I pointed him to the public computers only a few feet away but he didn't want to use those because 'public computers are full of viruses and somebody will get into my email'. Finally he offered me $20 so I opened a new tab and let him use my laptop for less than a minute. The funny part was, as worried as he was about security - he left his account logged in when he left.

One year my high school was selected to have a programming class as an experiment. If it had worked out, other computer classes would have followed and programming courses would have been available as electives for all schools in the district.

On the first day of class the woman they hired to teach this class introduced herself like this: "When they hired me they told me I could either teach C++ or AP calculus. I told them I didn't know anything about either but I'd give the computer one a shot because I could probably do less damage here."

Her intention was to "learn programming along with us" but she could hardly use a mouse. She would assign impossibly large and complex assignments with unreasonable deadlines.

When we turned in our code she would compare it to the sample code she was given in the teachers packet. Since she didn't comprehend even the basics of programming and couldn't understand either the code in her book or the code we'd turned in she'd simply mark any differences (even in variable names and comments) as errors and reduce your score on the assignment.

She never managed to get the compiler to work on her computer so she was never able to actually check if your code worked. This didn't bother her because of her grading method above. Unfortunately there were several instances when the sample code was wrong and wouldn't compile - but that was still the correct answer and nothing else would be accepted.

Eventually, after enough complaints, she decided that we simply weren't very good at this programming thing and needed better examples. So whenever she gave an assignment she would provide us all with bad photocopies of her example source code. For the rest of the term the class amounted to one guy straining to read the photocopy and type it out verbatim, then passing the resulting files out to the rest of the class while everyone else played games on the network in tiny windows near the bottom of the screen.

The class was supposed to be two parts, lasting both semesters. Predictably less than 5% of the class enrolled for the second part (2-3 people). The class (and the 'advanced computers' program, district-wide) was cancelled due to 'lack of interest'. The instructor was moved to the math department to teach AP students.

In grade school (early 90's) I was using some paint-style drawing program on computer in the library. I saved something to a floppy and then opened another file from the disk. The librarian saw that when I clicked a file the relevant program opened and assumed that I'd copied the program in its entirety to my disk. I was taken to the principal's office where I was forced to erase both of the floppies I had with me while receiving a lecture on stealing software and how nobody should ever need more than a single disk.

I woke up to the sounds of my then-fiancee sobbing. I went downstairs to see what was wrong. The sound now seemed to be coming from the basement (finished basement, spiral staircase). When I get down there the sound seems to be coming from behind the closed door of a small bathroom we don't use. I call out to her but I just hear more sobbing. At this point I remember that before I went to sleep she was on her way out to pick up groceries. I slowly back up the staircase and check her parking space and her car isn't there. As soon as I see this the sobbing stops completely. She arrived home a half hour later.